Looking down the other valley towards Beinn Fhada made me think about my rather stupid attempt crossing that ridge in February. It is still perpetuated with two scars on my belly, the result of sliding down a rock face for roughly ten metres before coming to a hold on a snow slap. It was one of the scariest moments in my life, as I had to haul myself even further up the snow slap to reach a safe position, only to realise that I would not make it down safely with my pack from there. As you can live without packs, I dropped it watching it making its way down the snow in a rapid speed, only to come to a halt right before the next ledge. The sheer thought that could happen to me as well made me shiver. I managed to slowly move down the rocks and slide down the snow slaps on my bum, before being happily reunited with my pack. Back in February I chose not to attempt to cross the ridge again without proper climbing equipment and not solo. The more satisfied I felt this time to actually stand up here, having hauled all camping gear up as well. On the downside there was no food as celebratory snack left other than an apple, which still tasted awesome. And combined with the view around me, and hardly any wind, it was a feast on 850m. For the Munro beggars among you, I didn't actually go up to the tops finally, as some bad weather was approaching. Spoiling a day like this wasn't worthwhile, so I decided to have a reason to come back and tackle the peaks another time. There is so much left to do there, way too much. It's trips like this that make Scotland the beauty it is. Nobody stops you finding your own paths, you can feel free to go wherever you want, do whatever you do. Your biggest obstacle can be yourself and the weather, but none of that applied to me this weekend.
The trip started with a rather boring Friday evening. As I couldn't find a victim to have a pint with, I double-checked the weather forecast again and again, as rain was supposed to move in on Sunday. Camping and walking in heavy rain in Scotland can be a unique experience, but not the uniqueness I was after for the weekend. So after deciding that the mountain weather forecast should be the more reliable one, which offered a chance of 80% seeing Munros on Sunday, I packed everything I could think of and made my way into bed, only to find myself forced to get up at 4 am. After four massive hours of sleep I managed to almost miss the train, only to find out that advance fares are the much better choice with Scotrail. Otherwise hitchhiking is the better value option.
However I managed to quickly change my mind and not get off the train in Crianlarich, instead moved on to Corrour Station, which always looked like an awesome place when passing on journeys to Fort William. The only problem was that I had boarded the train with minimal food supplies, and felt rather scared by the sign indicating that Kinlochleven was an easy 15 miles away. But who needs food anyway when you have 25 degrees, hardly any wind and you drag yourself through a magnificent moor? Not me, so I passed beautiful Loch Treig, which will be one of my next spots to camp for sure, and made it to a nice wee bothy at Loch Chiarain. Being greeted by a friendly Scotsman was a surprise, as I expected not to meet anybody. He was choice and had some great advise on bothies in the area, so the next trip developed in my head already. By the time its was lunchtime, well spent with some rice by the bothy, and sunbathing on the shores of Loch Chiarain. Who needs the Mediterranean if you have almost 30 degrees in Scotland, and no midges?
In the afternoon I finally made it to Blackwater Reservoir then, which I had spotted a few times from various peaks around. It's quite an unreal place, with massive boulders lining the shores, combined with the remains of the trees that used to inhabit the valley before they flooded the reservoir. The scenic path down to Kinlochleven almost ended the day in style. But as camping here didn't fit as an option and I had some four hours of proper daylight left to walk, I tackled the West Highland Way once another time down to Altnafeadh on Devil's Staircase. Seeing some poor walkers just returning from their mission of the day made me feel a bit sorry for them, one was walking rather horizontal than vertical, more on four than two legs. But after they had stocked up with 2 chocolate bars, 4! packs of juice, various fruits and all sorts of other stuff, I didn't feel any sorry any more. No wonder that your body aches if you carry all that stuff around. Live simple and your body will like you much more, and you will love your trips! Sometimes I think the West Highland Trail is more a torture trail for wannabe adventurers that fancy walking next to one of the busiest road in Scotland.
The day was concluded with pitching my tent at King's House Hotel, which proved to be a bad decision. Too much wind made my pasta a soup rather than pasta. The 500ml liquid on the packet would have been alright for 3 packs, but not for one. To late to complain anyway, as the bar closes at 8.30 for food. At least my entertainment for the night was taken care of by some Scottish lads, who thought it was funny to sing silly songs till 2 at night. I was close to pulling their tent pegs out in the morning as revenge, but I rather used my time fighting midges. That's reason number two not to camp there again. And as the wind was still going, I didn't bother eating something warm, malt loaf would do the job as well.
Sunday then continued with discovering a lovely bothy on the bottom of Stob Dearg, which was again inhabited by two (alcoholics) climbers, which looked like they had a bit too much whiskey the night before. As much as I love Scotland, I cannot appreciate the alcohol consumption that seems to be normal here. I love my tea! I made it up as far as possible on a nice wee path on the northern side of Stob Dearg, and then on to Altnafeadh. The much suspected rain had no intention spoiling my plans, so after a gentle walk trough Lairig Gartain I scrambled up the ridge and felt good. Going down was a rather hard and very steep on the other side into Lairig Etide. On the last meters I was joined by a guy who just decided that going up there without proper shoes, waterproofs and maps isn't the wisest thing to do. I felt a wee bit sorry for that dude leaving me with the words 'my girl friend is not into this active stuff, I used to do a lot of this.' while jumping in his flash Saab 93. It's your life, isn't it?
See some pictures here
However I managed to quickly change my mind and not get off the train in Crianlarich, instead moved on to Corrour Station, which always looked like an awesome place when passing on journeys to Fort William. The only problem was that I had boarded the train with minimal food supplies, and felt rather scared by the sign indicating that Kinlochleven was an easy 15 miles away. But who needs food anyway when you have 25 degrees, hardly any wind and you drag yourself through a magnificent moor? Not me, so I passed beautiful Loch Treig, which will be one of my next spots to camp for sure, and made it to a nice wee bothy at Loch Chiarain. Being greeted by a friendly Scotsman was a surprise, as I expected not to meet anybody. He was choice and had some great advise on bothies in the area, so the next trip developed in my head already. By the time its was lunchtime, well spent with some rice by the bothy, and sunbathing on the shores of Loch Chiarain. Who needs the Mediterranean if you have almost 30 degrees in Scotland, and no midges?
In the afternoon I finally made it to Blackwater Reservoir then, which I had spotted a few times from various peaks around. It's quite an unreal place, with massive boulders lining the shores, combined with the remains of the trees that used to inhabit the valley before they flooded the reservoir. The scenic path down to Kinlochleven almost ended the day in style. But as camping here didn't fit as an option and I had some four hours of proper daylight left to walk, I tackled the West Highland Way once another time down to Altnafeadh on Devil's Staircase. Seeing some poor walkers just returning from their mission of the day made me feel a bit sorry for them, one was walking rather horizontal than vertical, more on four than two legs. But after they had stocked up with 2 chocolate bars, 4! packs of juice, various fruits and all sorts of other stuff, I didn't feel any sorry any more. No wonder that your body aches if you carry all that stuff around. Live simple and your body will like you much more, and you will love your trips! Sometimes I think the West Highland Trail is more a torture trail for wannabe adventurers that fancy walking next to one of the busiest road in Scotland.
The day was concluded with pitching my tent at King's House Hotel, which proved to be a bad decision. Too much wind made my pasta a soup rather than pasta. The 500ml liquid on the packet would have been alright for 3 packs, but not for one. To late to complain anyway, as the bar closes at 8.30 for food. At least my entertainment for the night was taken care of by some Scottish lads, who thought it was funny to sing silly songs till 2 at night. I was close to pulling their tent pegs out in the morning as revenge, but I rather used my time fighting midges. That's reason number two not to camp there again. And as the wind was still going, I didn't bother eating something warm, malt loaf would do the job as well.
Sunday then continued with discovering a lovely bothy on the bottom of Stob Dearg, which was again inhabited by two (alcoholics) climbers, which looked like they had a bit too much whiskey the night before. As much as I love Scotland, I cannot appreciate the alcohol consumption that seems to be normal here. I love my tea! I made it up as far as possible on a nice wee path on the northern side of Stob Dearg, and then on to Altnafeadh. The much suspected rain had no intention spoiling my plans, so after a gentle walk trough Lairig Gartain I scrambled up the ridge and felt good. Going down was a rather hard and very steep on the other side into Lairig Etide. On the last meters I was joined by a guy who just decided that going up there without proper shoes, waterproofs and maps isn't the wisest thing to do. I felt a wee bit sorry for that dude leaving me with the words 'my girl friend is not into this active stuff, I used to do a lot of this.' while jumping in his flash Saab 93. It's your life, isn't it?
See some pictures here
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